


Stone Cold Love

by PawPunk



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Creature Fic, Existential Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Magic, Making Out, Minecraft, Suicide Attempt, Transformation, True Love's Kiss, more to be added - Freeform, non- permanent death, petrification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23633437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawPunk/pseuds/PawPunk
Summary: Cleo knows she can always depend on her good pal Joe, but what will she do when a witch's potion turns her into a hideous monster and Joe to stone? Will their friendship (or love) prevail as they break the curse, or will the hermits have to adjust to life without their poet? Either way, things will never be the same on the Hermitcraft server. Rated T for body horror elements.Obligatory disclaimer: the characters in this fic are based on the performances the various hermits put on for their videos. I do not know, not claim to know, anything about the hermits off-camera, and therefore I am not writing about them.
Relationships: Cleo/Joe, JoeHills/ZombieCleo, ZombieCleo/JoeHills, joe/cleo, minor stresskall
Comments: 24
Kudos: 81





	1. Cleo

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Luckycloverdragon for being my beta reader!!!
> 
> Trigger warnings: mild body horror, a Minecraft mob gets decapitated, transformations, the word breasts is written (scandalous!)

Cleo crept through the swamp, her diamond sword trailing in the mucky water. A witch’s hut loomed before her, the resident witch distracted by gathering mushrooms. As she turned her back completely, Cleo sensed an opportunity and bounded out of the bushes. In three long steps, she reached the witch, raising her sword. The poor thing barely had time to throw a potion at her before Cleo decapitated the witch in a shower of smoke. Her head fell to the ground as her body evaporated, and Cleo victoriously picked up the head. It would be perfect for the scene she was going to create!

It was only after her task was done that she noticed the potion dripping down her face and soaking into her clothes and skin. Crap, Cleo thought. I don’t have any milk. Oddly enough, though, the potion didn’t poison or harm her. It just tingled against her skin, unlike anything Cleo had ever felt. Well, if it hadn’t killed her by now, it probably wasn’t important. Cleo shoved the head in her inventory and headed back to her base.

The path back home was uneventful, but the pins and needles from the potion only got worse. Her arms clenched every time she had to fire off a rocket, but Cleo didn’t dare walk and slow down her travel. By the time she landed at her base, she could barely walk without the not quite painful yet unpleasant feeling wracking her upper body. She stumbled into her base and flopped on her bed. What was in that potion? She was totally exhausted from even a short amount of travel, but not hungry- munching an apple did nothing to the fatigue.

Even thinking only added to the fatigue. Cleo unequipped her elytra- maybe washing off the potion would erase the effects. She looked down as she stood up but quickly fell back down in shock. Instead of her mint green but smooth skin, her chest was covered in dull grey scales. When she touched them, she realized that her nails had turned into black claws, her hands covered in smaller, paler scales. Pins and needles attacked her waist, and she pulled up her shirt. Red spots peppered her belly, and occasional scales dotted the space just under her breasts. The effect of the potion was spreading!

Cleo blinked in shock for a few seconds, then stumbled up. She grabbed a block of glass, dyed in black, and placed it down. In the dark reflection, she could see the scales crawl up her face as well. She jolted back, tangling her fingers in her hair. It felt stiff- probably from a nervous sweat. Cleo had never seen anything like this potion before. How long ago had she been hit? Usually, the potion would wear off in eight minutes, but it felt like more than that time had passed.

Cleo’s heart pounded- from the potion or from panic, she didn’t know. She obviously wasn’t in her right mind, and there was only one person she could trust to help her with this. Equipping her elytra again, Cleo leapt into the air and flew in the direction of Joe’s base.


	2. Joe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: transformations, light body horror, a brief mention of leg-breaking, purple prose

“Joe?” The man looked up and out the window at the sound of his name. A shadow passed over the sun and he grinned, recognizing the voice and silhouette of his favorite person.

“Cleo, my shambling companion!” he called up. “Have you changed your mind about breaking my legs? Because if so, I’m requesting at least a minute head start.”

“It’s not that,” Cleo said. She landed between the rows of berry bushes, and immediately Joe could tell something wasn’t right. She was limping, her beautiful mint-chocolate-chip-but-without-the-chocolate-chips colored skin was sapped of its color and (un)life, and she skittered among the rows of berries like a frightened alleycat. “I need help,” she called, her voice rough with panic. Joe threw open the door to his room and rushed downstairs.

“Anything you ask, my undead amigo.” His whimsical alliteration didn’t conceal the worry in his voice. “Unless you want me to hold some diamonds for you because I will destroy them without mercy or hesitation.”

“It’s not that!” Cleo repeated, her voice even raspier than a few minutes before. “Just come here!”

Joe finally arrived at the door of his winery, stumbling out onto his porch. Cleo had collapsed in the middle of his vineyard, her red hair hanging in damp coils- almost dreadlocks, really- and covering her face. Joe rushed to her side. “Cleo, what’s wrong?” All of Joe’s eloquence had left him. His stomach twisted with worry as he cupped her face through her hair.

“I fought a witch,” Cleo said. “She hit me with a potion, and it doesn’t work like any of the other potions, and it’s changing me and it isn’t wearing off and I don’t know how to make it stop!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Joe said soothingly. The effect was only slightly ruined by the panic in his own voice. “Nothing a potion of healing can’t fix, I bet. C’mon, Cleo, get up-“ but the zombie was shaking so hard with sobs she couldn’t hear him. Joe could feel cold tears wetting his hand. “Cleo, please,” he mumbled, tilting her face up.

Cleo complied. Her hair fell away as she looked at him, and Joe leaped to his feet, his arms stretched out to defend himself. For a moment, all Joe could see was pebbly grey scales, writhing snakes for hair, and the slitted red eyes he stared into. Then, instantly, he felt bad. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you.”

But he couldn’t.

Joe’s mouth- his whole face- was oddly stiff, stuck in his expression of shock and revulsion. He tried to move his hands, but they were fixed too. In fact- he couldn’t move anything at all.

“Oh G-d!” Cleo’s hands- now gnarled grey claws- went to her mouth in horror as those fiery eyes widened. She wasn’t a zombie no more, Joe realized- she was a gorgon, and she had turned him to stone. What a fate- to be stuck here forever, in his vineyard, fully conscious but unable to move! And fixed in an expression of fear of his best bud, his partner in crime, and (although Cleo didn’t know it yet) his object of desperate admiration, too? Joe would lower his gaze in shame- if he could.

Instead, he gazed out over the bay as Cleo threw her arms around his calcified torso, sobbing into his cold breast. He would cut out his tongue to hold her back.


	3. Cleo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: talk about death, a fish gets turned to stone

What felt like hours later, Cleo’s tears ran dry. She wiped her face, trying to steady her breath. So her gaze turned people to stone, huh? She just needed to cover her eyes. Cleo rushed to the sea and grabbed out a long, durable looking piece of kelp, turning a poor cod to stone in the process. It wasn’t the most pleasant blindfold, but it would hopefully stay in place. With the kelp in her hand, she flew off in the direction of Stressmonster’s base.

As soon as the multicolored dome came into view, Cleo landed and wrapped the kelp around her face. The smell of salt assaulted her nose as she struggled to tie the slippery, slimy band around her head. It covered both her eyes completely, but she had underestimated how difficult it was to go tromping through a jungle without the aid of sight. Within a minute she had tripped over no less than five bushes/ “Stress?” she called helplessly. Hopefully the Brit was home- if she wasn’t, Cleo could be wandering for a long, long time.

“Cleo!” The zombie’s head jerked up, despite the fact that she couldn’t see. “What happened to you, darling?” she asked. Cleo couldn’t see her, but she knew she must be just as shocked and horrified as Joe was. Fair enough. It must be strange to see your friend transformed into a monster. And wearing kelp on her head.

“I got splashed by a potion,” Cleo said. “It made me look like this, and when I look at people they turn to stone. That’s-“ Cleo broke off, steadying her nerves with a deep breath. “That’s what happened to Joe when I went to him for help.”

Stress gasped. “You killed him?” she shrieked.

“No, if I’d killed him he would have respawned by now!” Cleo said. “He must be still alive- just trapped as a statue.” Yes, Joe was still alive, Cleo thought. The alternative was too horrible to think about.

Stress didn’t speak for a while. “There’s no potion I’ve heard of that makes you turn people to stone,” she mused. “It must be a new feature.” Leaves crunched and sticks snapped as she began walking away.

“Hey, wait up! I can’t see!” The snapping drew nearer, and Cleo felt Stress’s warm hand fold in her own, guiding her towards her base.

“Watch out,” Stress said, helping Cleo down a ladder into one of her builds. She opened a chest, then pressed a bucket of milk into Cleo’s hands. “Drink this. If it’s really just a potion effect, this’ll cancel it out.”

Cleo did as she was told, drinking from the bucket until it was empty. She waited for any sort of effect at all, but none came. “It didn’t do anything,” she announced.

“Alright,” Stress said. “Then, a potion of healing maybe?”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Stress was already crafting away, readying the ingredients for the potion. “Do you think curing me will fix Joe, too?”

Stress was brewing the potion now. “Well, I don’t know,” she said. “My brain tells me no, ‘cause what you do shouldn’t effect him now, but again, we’ve never seen this before. It could, I suppose.” She passed Cleo the healing potion. “Try this.”

Cleo drank. It replenished the half a heart she didn’t have, but her body was still scaly. She set down the bottle harder than she thought she did, and the glass audibly cracked. “It didn’t do anything!” Cleo cried. “I’m gonna be stuck like this forever!”

“Well, don’t take it out on me!” Stress said. “We haven’t tried everything yet! Keep your head up, we’ll find something.” Cleo’s hair- or rather, snakes- writhed as Stress patted her head.

“Right. You’re right. Sorry I yelled,” Cleo sighed. “Let’s find Joe. They wouldn’t allow an incurable status effect that just makes you turn to stone forever. I bet we can cure it. I bet it’s worn off by now!”

Stress shuffled around in her chests for a moment. “Alright, I’m ready, lets go!” They climbed the ladder, and Stress grabbed Cleo’s hand to lead her through the air.


	4. Joe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: nothing that hasn't been in the previous chapters, but to a lesser degree

Even before his monstrous angel appeared in the sky, blindfolded and guided by the metaphorical Stress Monster, a group of hermits had congregated around Joe. He stared straight ahead as usual as they prodded, grabbed, and otherwise bothered him, and he was helpless to stop them. It was better than being left alone, though.

“Hey!” Stress shouted as she landed. “What are all you doing here?”

Grian stepped forward. “I was walking through the jungle and I heard you and Cleo talking about Joe being dead, so I went to check on him! And also I told all the other hermits.” Cleo groaned.

“So, what really happened?” Mumbo asked. “Why are you all scaly? And why is there kelp on your head?”

Cleo mechanically recounted her story. Luckily, most of the hermits were less horrified than curious. They listened with rapt attention until she finished.

“Xisuma, have you heard of this kind of thing before?” Cleo asked helplessly.

“No,” the bee- man said. “I certainly didn’t add it. It might even be a glitch.” He opened up the code on his helmet screen, beginning to scan for any anomalies.

“A glitch?” Cleo yelped. “But then there might be no way to fix it!”

“You know, you seem really upset right now,” Scar said. “Can I interest you in a magic crystal?”

“NOT NOW, SCAR!” Cleo bellowed. She reached into her inventory, pulling out a healing potion. She strode forward confidently, red snake-hair tossed over her shoulders. The crowd of hermits parted before her like peasants before a queen. It was only as she got close to Joe that she stretched out her hand, cupping his face and feeling down to his mouth. If Joe were still human, he’d have had a heart attack from the feeling of Cleo’s fingers trailing along his lips. As it stood, his chest was stone through and through, so his freakout remained merely mental.

Cleo uncorked the potion. She stood on tiptoes, pouring the potion into Joe’s gaping mouth. It filled up the crevice, and he tried to swallow. Come on, he thought to himself. I know you can do this. You’ve done this thousands of times before! But the potion remained in his mouth. In fact, Joe didn’t seem to have a throat at all- the potion filled up his mouth and dripped down his chin and neck. Even so, Cleo emptied the entire bottle, as if the last drop contained the magic to turn him back. She stepped back, biting her lip. Joe remained stone.

“Well,” Cleo said. Her voice was forceful, but the higher pitch belied her nerves. “Does anyone else have ideas?” Mumbo silently volunteered a golden apple. Cleo bit into it, then broke off a piece and put it in Joe’s mouth. More of the healing potion dribbled out. Joe could only hope that if one of the hermits’ methods worked, they would be too happy to see him safe to mock him. A farfetched hope, but a better one to hang on to than worrying if he would ever move again.

“What if he’s not fully petrified?” Grian asked. “Maybe he’s only encased in stone, and we can break him out?” Equipping his pickaxe, Grian carefully tapped at Joe’s arm. The stone didn’t chip. Curious, Grian hit a little harder, and not a single crack appeared. Finally, he pulled the pick back all the way and brought it down. The pick bounced off Joe’s rocky skin and lodged in a tree.

“Huh,” Grian said, rubbing his wrist. “Must be made of bedrock.”

“This is gonna sound weird,” Tango said, “But what if the cure is to stare into his eyes again?”

“You know what?” Cleo said. “This whole situation is so weird I bet that is how it’s cured. Turn around and close your eyes.” The hermits shuffled around, covering their eyes (although Mumbo had to stop a curious Grian from looking more than once). Cleo untied the kelp blindfold. She blinked, and her pupils shrank from rounds to the catlike slits Joe had seen before. Now that the shock had worn off, Joe realized they were rather beautiful- they had the same dark, almost black shine as garnets, peppered with scarlet flecks when the sun hit them. What really made them lovely, though, was that the gems were set in Cleo’s face.

She had to stand on her tiptoes to truly look in his eyes, one hand balancing on his shoulder. I’m sorry, Joe thought at her. Her piercing red gaze met his for five long seconds, one now- sharper tooth worrying at her bottom lip.

“Okay, so maybe it won’t help,” Cleo said. She fell back on her heels, cloaking her eyes in the kelp again. It was only then they noticed that the sun was setting, bathing the congregation in orange light.

Xisuma, having found nothing useful, closed the code. “Maybe if we all sleep at the same time it’ll fix it,” he said, exhausted. The hermits nodded and mumbled in agreement, donning elytras and shooting off into the sky in a shower of sparks. Only Scar stayed behind, pressing a magical crystal into one of Joe’s stiff hands before leaving as well.

The sun dipped below the horizon. Only the blue light of the moon lit the vineyard and bay in front of Joe. His body wasn’t tired at all, but his mind was weighed down with a thousand worries. Joe longed for rest, but even if Xisuma had found the cure and everyone sleeping at once would set the world right it wouldn’t work. Joe could not sleep. He just stared out over the bay, eternally still.


	5. Cleo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: cursing, mild body horror, implied non- permanent suicide

Cleo woke up the next morning and stretched. She grabbed a cooked cod out of a chest and gnawed on it, still in bed and mostly asleep. When she finished her breakfast, she rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Slowly pushing herself to her elbows, she became vaguely aware of someone shouting at her.

“What?” she called.

“I said, are you decent?” It was Iskall, Cleo realized.

“Decent means wearing clothes,” Stress helpfully added.

“Yeah,” she called, grabbing her armor and putting it on. As she opened the chest, she saw a long piece of kelp on top. What was that for? her sleep deprived brain wondered. The sound of a door breaking came from behind her.

“I know that you’re… having a rough time, but we wanted to check on you and tell you we’re here for you,” Stress called from the front of her base. “And make sure you get out of bed. ‘Cause it can be hard when you’re really sad.”

Cleo picked up the seaweed and stared at it. She remembered it was supposed to be a blindfold before she remembered why. Her gaze focused on her hands. They weren’t supposed to be that grey and gnarled, were they?

“Cleo? Why aren’t you blindfolded?” Instinctively, Cleo’s head whipped around at the sound of her name. Her eyes met Iskall’s as he walked into the room, and before either of them knew what had happened, Iskall was a statue, his hand raised in a friendly wave but his face confused.

“What the fuck?” Stress yelped, sprinting into the room. Cleo shut her eyes as tight as she could, quickly wrapping the kelp around her eyes. Luckily, Stress was too focused on her friend to look at Cleo and get petrified as well.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Cleo said. She could hear her friend’s panicked breathing as she stumbled into the room. “I don’t- I forgot, I’m sorry-“

“You forgot?” Stress yelled. Cleo blinked in surprise at the harsh tone. She had never heard that kind of rage coming out of Stress’s mouth before. “Forgot you could turn people TO STONE?” She paused, spluttering with anger. “How?” She finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Cleo whimpered, but Stress wasn’t really listening.

“This is something we’ve never seen before- nobody’s seen it before!” she continued, her voice getting higher as her panic mounted. “For all we know, you could have killed Iskall for good!”

“Oh G-d,” Cleo said softly. Tears welled in her eyes, sticking to the kelp and dripping out from under it. “I can’t- I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

Stress sighed harshly. “You need to be more careful. I’ll get X, he can help.” Cleo could only nod, head in her hands. She heard a soft thud as she sat down. Her calloused hands rasped over the rough stone that used to be Iskall. The only sound in the room was a soft whimpering, desperately repressed but obviously there.

At some point, Xisuma arrived. He swore under his breath when he saw Iskall. “Another one?” he asked.

Cleo opened her mouth, but Stress got there first. “He just walked in, and then he was dead,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob. Cleo heard Xisuma patting her on the back soothingly.

“Okay, we have to stay calm here,” he said. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried yet- maybe the curse will just… wear off in time. You can’t prove that won’t happen, right?”

“Right,” Stress said in a thick voice. She sniffed.

“C’mon.” Xisuma pulled Stress into a sudden hug, judging by the quick oomph of breath leaving her. “We’re finding a solution. You don’t have to worry.”

“I know.”

Cleo tightened her blindfold. “Xisuma, you know I didn’t mean to,” she said. The words echoed hollowly around the room. “He caught me by surprise, is all.”

Xisuma was silent for a bit. “Cleo,” he said. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but if you’re turning people to stone by accident maybe you shouldn’t… be around people.” Cleo opened her mouth, to say anything, really. Was she angry? Scared? She had no right to either emotion- she was a danger to everyone but herself- but neither did Stress. She wasn’t a damn statue either, was she? “I know you didn’t do it on purpose-“ he said quickly, “But really, that’s more of a reason to keep you separate. It’ll keep people safe until this all blows over.”

Cleo deflated a little. He made perfect, annoying sense. If she was a danger to be around, why should she put her friends in harm’s way? “Of course.” she said. “I totally understand.”

“Thank you.” Cleo jumped as Xisuma put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry!” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you there.”

“It’s fine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going for a walk.” Cleo could feel Xisuma begin to protest, but she stood up anyway. She might be dangerous, but he should know she wasn’t stupid. She’d stay away from anyone’s base. Stress bumped into her as she left, she was sure of it. So what if Stress hated her? She could hate her. Cleo stormed out the door, leaving the two hermits talking anxiously behind her.

Cleo wandered into the savannah behind her base, stumbling over hills and sticks and rocks. She walked until she had accumulated enough bumps and bruises to turn her legs into a stinging, black and blue mess, and then she took off her blindfold. There was nothing built or terraformed as far as the eye could see. The sun was going down, and a chill rushed through the air. Mobs would start to spawn soon, and Cleo began to dig for dirt to bury herself for the night.

Except… shouldn’t dying remove all status effects? It made sense- she’d generate a whole new body when she respawned, and it wouldn’t carry the curse with it. Even if it didn’t… maybe she deserved it. Being ripped apart by zombies or blown up by a creeper wasn’t as bad as being trapped in unfeeling stone for the rest of eternity.

Cleo set down the dirt block she had dug up and punched down a tree. She crafted a chest to give herself the hope of reclaiming her armor and placed. Then, she looked up at the distance where hissing monsters were already appearing. A spider turned to stone, and Cleo closed her eyes.


	6. Joe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: existential dread, light body horror

When Joe had first been turned to stone, he had tried to keep his head up. Metaphorically. His head was permanently angled slightly downwards, since that was the position he’d been in when he saw Cleo. However, he’d thought he’d be able to stay positive. Even if he couldn’t move or speak, he could still entertain himself by writing poetry in his head and listening to anyone who came to visit him. But Joe had been assuming that this would be temporary. Now, after a few days of nothing but thinking about words and listening to sad people talk about him, he was beginning to get more than a little bored.

Joe Hills, bored of poetry. Fancy that.

He was considering writing a poem about getting bored of writing poetry when he heard the chatter of hermits behind him. He still instinctively tried to crane his neck as they approached, but the hermits quickly came into view anyway.

“Tango, Zed, take the feet. Impulse and I will take the head,” Xisuma instructed his entourage. Before Joe could process what was happening, he was hoisted stiffly up, the hermits grunting with effort as the heaved him out from between the rows of berry bushes and onto a sandbar. The boys set him down and he sunk slightly into the wet sand.

“A two by two should do it, right?” Impulse asked.

“Yeah. Hopefully, it won’t be permanent, but its not like he’ll need room to pace anyway.” Xisuma started placing blocks in a square around Joe while the others started placing torches on the ground and walls. In minutes, they’d built up a simple wooden hut around him and lit it with about a million torches.

As Zed placed the door in the shack, he asked Xisuma, “So, how long do you think it’ll take?”

“Hell if I know,” Xisuma sighed. “But when it does wear off, at least he won’t get eaten by mobs.”

The door slammed shut. As the boys walked away, Joe strained against his stone prison. It would wear off? How did Xisuma know? And why didn’t he know how long it would take? 

The walls of his makeshift hut seemed to close in. He felt like Schodinger’s cat, not dead, but not really alive either, and to top it all off trapped in a fucking box! He’d never wanted to pace so much in his life.

An unmeasurable amount of time later (thanks to the way being petrified messed with your sense of time perception and not being able to see outside) the door creaked open. It shut, and Joe heard someone thump to the floor beside him. He wished people would stop doing that, he never knew who he was with, and it bugged him.

He knew who had visited him the moment she spoke, though. “Hey Joe,” Cleo said. Her voice was rough and lower than usual. He hoped she hadn’t been crying. “I don’t know if you can hear me, and I know you can’t respond, but there’s nobody else I wanna talk to. Or even can talk to about this. See, a few days ago Stress and Israel came to visit me, and…” she swallowed hard. “I accidentally turned Iskall to stone. So I’m not allowed to see anyone. Just in case.”

She leaned against him. Her undead skin was a shade warmer than the cool stone of his body. “I just- I don’t know what to do. It feels like I’ve tried everything, and nothing works. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were here to help-“ she said, and Joe started. Did she really think that highly of him? “Because, like, you don’t care how weird something is. You roll with it, and everyone else is freaking out about this. If we had one person thinking straight, I bet this would be all over by now. But we don’t. I wish-“ Cleo sniffed. “I wish I’d gone to anyone else first.”

If Joe had a heart, it would be heavy. If he had a throat, it would ache with suppressed tears. He wanted to help, G-d, he wanted to do anything! Why couldn’t Cleo forget about him, live a little happier without the guilt of petrifying him on her conscience? “I miss you, dumbass,” Cleo said, tears in her voice. “I miss your poetry and your unique perspective on things, and how you’re never afraid of me ‘cause you know I’ll always be your-“ she sobbed. “Your _best_ friend. I just…” she trailed off.

Finally, she stood up, walking into his field of view. She still had the kelp wound around her head, and tears leaked out from under it. Cleo leaned her head against Joe’s shoulder. Maybe, he thought without really believing himself, maybe if he thought hard enough she’d hear him. With grim determination, he focused all his energy on one message. He couldn’t quite think of a way to condense all the things he wanted to say, though, so he settled for “I love you.”

“Thanks for listening,” Cleo said finally. For a few moments, her hand locked with his, and her face bowed towards it. Then, she straightened herself up, shook her head sadly, and felt her way out the door. Moonlight seeped in beside her before she shut it. The stone of Joe’s body felt heavier now. It was probably just his imagination, he thought glumly. Not a heavy heart, a heavy mind. His thoughts weighed down my answers yet to find, like, would he come back? Move from this place? See the relived smile on her face? Or was this life now? In this state, could he be? Is only dark and cold still left in me? Joe didn’t have the answers, and no amount of logic would give them to him. Magically, from the stone of his face, saltwater began to seep.


	7. Cleo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: attempted permanent suicide, non-consentual kissing

Cleo placed the last dirt block under herself and climbed up onto the giant arch in front of her base. She had already removed her elytra and armor in her base. Maybe they would do someone else good. She stepped over to the edge of the arch, looking down below. The drop didn’t scare her at all. From this height, it would be completely painless, and she was used to respawning after she died. She would just pretend she’d do the same this time.

Cleo took one last breath and was about to step off the edge when she heard a whoosh and a whistle behind her. She snapped her eyes shut tight as the interloper landed beside her.

“Hey hey hey, Cleo!” Ren said. “What’s going on? Going for a flight? Where’s your elytra?”

“Xisuma said people aren’t supposed to come near me,” Cleo said. “You’re not allowed to be here.”

“Ah, whatever,” Ren scoffed. “I can’t see with these awesome shades anyway. But, seriously, what are you doing?”

“Just leave me alone.”

“I thought you already tried killing yourself,” Ren continued. “I saw the message in the chat.”

“Shut up!” Cleo snapped. She could hear Ren take a shocked step back. “I’m going to perma die. For real.”

Ren balked. “What? You can’t seriously think that’ll reverse the spell, dog!”

“You’re right,” Cleo said. “I don’t. But it’ll keep the rest of the hermits safe.”

Cleo took a step towards the edge, but Ren’s hand clasped around her arm. “You can’t just kill yourself!” he yelled.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Cleo said. “The curse is permanent. I might as well get it over with.” She yanked out of his grip and strode towards the edge.

“I know how to break the curse!” Ren yelled, and Cleo stopped dead.

“…For real?” she asked.

“Yeah, but you gotta come down on the ground first. I don’t want a breeze blowing you off the edge.” Cleo would have objected, but honestly a breeze could have blown her away by this point. Between being a zombie and death being typically impermanent, she didn’t really need to eat, and her appetite hadn’t been very big since she’d been forced into isolation. Begrudgingly, she stepped onto the dirt stack she had made and started digging down.

“Thanks, doll,” Ren sighed with relief. He flew down beside her, landing gently on the ground as she broke the last block.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Um,” Ren said. “The plan is… you just gotta… give me a second to phrase it. In my head.”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have a plan, did you?” she asked.

“No, no, I definitely have an idea,” Ren said. “Don’t go back up, I’m just thinking of how to-“

“Tell me now.”

“Well, uh.” Ren audibly gulped. “We’ve tried everything that works in game, right?”

“Right.”

“So…” Cleo could practically hear the lightbulb going off over Ren’s head. “We need to do something that isn’t baked into the game mechanics! We need to do something that works in stories, not real life!”

“Like?” Cleo asked.

Ren whistled. “True love’s kiss?” he suggested.

Cleo laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, great idea, Ren.” She sighed. “No, actually, good idea. I’m sure it would be worth a shot… if I hadn’t killed my true love.”

“What?” Ren asked.

A tiny bit of blood flushed Cleo’s undead cheeks. “Joe,” she said shortly.

“No, really?” Ren asked. “Aw man, Doc owes me so much!” Cleo clenched her jaw, and Ren coughed awkwardly. “But, I mean, he’s still physically there, right?” he said. “And I mean, Prince Charming kissed Snow White while she was basically dead. I bet if you kiss Joe, it’ll still work.”

Cleo was about to say, no, thanks, but I’d rather just end it here, but she stopped and thought. She could always off herself after she tried the kiss, but if she died there was nothing more she could do. It would only be a positive thing to try. She bravely tied her blindfold on. “Alright, help me get to where he is.”

“Alright! You won’t regret this!” Ren said, privately sighing with relief. He grabbed Cleo’s arm, chucked her a spare elytra, and guided her across the Hermiteranian.

She alighted minutes later outside the wooden hut built up around Joe. She opened the door, taking off her blindfold. The inside of the hut was tinged red by the fire of the torch. Joe was standing as he always was, hands in front of him and mouth open in shock. Suddenly, Cleo wasn’t sure this was a good idea. It probably wouldn’t work anyway, and if it did… what if he didn’t want to kiss her? She wasn’t sure this would be worth it if she’d still lose her best friend.

“Go on,” Ren said from the outside. Cleo swallowed and stepped inside.

“Hey, Joe,” she said softly, closing the door of the shack for a little privacy. She stepped up to Joe, standing on her tip toes, and moved forward. His lips weren’t closed, so she couldn’t exactly give him a chaste little peck. Did she kiss his cheek, or just one lip? The rules of fairytales told her there was only one real way to go. Oh well, she thought. Might as well go all in. Like she’d imagined so many times before, Cleo leaned forward and covered Joe’s mouth with her own.


	8. Joe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: kissing, more shippy stuff

The door to Joe’s prison opened sooner than he’d expected. It was Cleo again, but there was something different about her. She marched right up in front of her, shoulders back and eyes dry. Good, Joe thought. See, she was better already! Maybe it hurt like a thousand beestings to know how quickly she’d gotten over him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy on her behalf.

Ren shouted something from outside, and Cleo huffed, shutting the door. “Hey, Joe,” she said, her voice soft but strong. Brows knitted with determination, she grabbed his face and stood on her tiptoes. Her scarlet eyes glittered, miniature firesmirroring the blazing torches that lit them. Her mouth scrunched up adorably as she scrutinized his face. It was times like these when Joe didn’t really mind not being able to turn his head or move his eyes. He didn’t want to look anywhere else.

Cleo was to him as a queen was to her subjects. He adored her for the amazing things she did and the way she just _was_ in equal parts. Her bravery, her enthusiasm, her sense of humor- they all made her outshine the moon and every star. She was also very beautiful in a distinctly skin-deep sense, but anyone with eyes could see that. Joe was just thankful to know her well enough to holy fuck she was kissing him.

Joe didn’t understand. There was no logical reason for Cleo to throw her arms around his shoulders, lean against his chest, and plant a kiss right on his lips. It was obviously a delusion made up by his lonely brain. Even so, a wonderful warm feeling flooded his body, like standing under a hot shower. To hell with it, he thought. Like that Shakespeare guy said, if this be a dream, still let me sleep, or whatever. He closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, pulling Cleo against him in a hug.

Cleo yelped, squirming out of Joe’s arms. He pulled back, equally surprised, and she stared at him with wide emerald eyes. “Are you alright?” Joe spluttered, stepping back against the wall and staring at the ground.

“It worked,” Cleo said softly, a scared little grin creeping up her face.

“What wo- OH!” Joe yelled. He was alive! He was made of flesh and organs and bone again! He shook his arms out, a spastic movement of joy.

“It worked!” Cleo repeated, laughing with relief. She ran her fingers through her hair, finding soft red curls instead of the snakey tentacles.

“What worked?” Joe asked dumbly, catching Cleo’s contagious laughter.

“True love’s kiss,” she explained. “Ren’s idea.”

Joe gaped. “Cleo, you don’t suppose- do you think true love’s kiss is romantic, per se?”

“I dunno, but that kiss sure was.” Cleo grinned mischievously, but then her face fell. “I mean, unless you don’t wanna ever talk about this again. That’s cool t-“

This time, it was Joe who took her by surprise with a kiss. It was a stupid, overly-enthusiastic affair, with him peppering kisses on her face like a puppy licks its owner after they’ve come home from a long day of work. Cleo leaned back against a wall of the hut, grabbing his shirt with one hand, and his hair with her other, not letting him stop. As if Joe would.

“Did it wo- oh. I guess it did,” Ren said, cramming the tight space with one more person. “Wow, you guys are really going at it. Get a room.”

Cleo pushed Joe away and glared at Ren. Her chest was heaving and her face was flushed, but not from anger. “We have a room,” she snapped. “And you’re in it!”

“Point taken,” Ren said, backing out.

“So, uh,” Joe said. He took a step back- the distance, or lack thereof, between them seemed almost scandalous. “Do you want to maybe go out sometime?”

“Joe, we were just making out.”

“Sure, but like… is that a yes?” he asked.

“Of course it’s a yes,” she said tenderly. Joe wouldn’t have believed this was really happening, but Cleo liking him back was far from the weirdest thing to happen recently. He grabbed her hand and led her outside into the fresh air, the glorious sun.


	9. Cleo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: none

There were a whole lotta hermits gathered outside of Joe’s vineyard, with more flying in from all directions. Ren whooped when they walked out, yelling “Here come the lovebirds! I told you it worked!” He attempted to get the unofficial audience to clap, but he failed.

Cleo cringed. Even though she’d only been cursed for days, having so many people just looking at her felt… wrong. Xisuma broke through the crowd, squinting at Cleo as if she didn’t really exist.

“So, that was that, huh?” he said. “You just kiss a guy, and not only does the status effect go away, but he turns from stone into a person again?” He sighed. “I don’t know, that seems way too good to be true.

“It’s not!” Iskall and Stress landed behind them, conspicuously holding hands. “Ren told Stress it worked, and she tried it on me, and it did!” He grinned, blushing and rubbing the back of his head as he explained the story.

“Huh,” Xisuma said. “You were lucky, I guess.”

“Don’t credit us,” Cleo said. “Credit Ren. He was much more help than you guys even know.” Ren smiled humbly.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but could you guys leave?” Cleo said. “This is kinda freaking me out, and I think I need a little while to get used to not being lethal.” The group dissipated, but Stress stayed back.

“Hey, Cleo?” she asked.

Cleo was tempted to snap at her to leave, but she had a little bit of energy left. She drew on this to find politeness. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said. “For yelling at you when you turned Iskall. I know you didn’t mean it. I was just…” she paused, searching for the right word.

Cleo’s mouth twitched. “Were you,” she said, struggling to keep a straight face. “A little bit… stressed out?”

Stress tried to glare at her, but ended up laughing a little. “Maybe not exactly, but yeah, I wasn’t thinking straight. I totally understand if you say no, but are we still friends?”

“Yeah, but for now, I need to rest,” Cleo said. “Leave. Please. But also I love you.” Stress smiled at her before flying away in a shower of rocket sparks. Cleo turned around. Joe was not there.

“Joe?” she called, spinning around.

“Hey,” he called from halfway through his berry field.

“Where are you going?”

“You said you wanted to be alone!”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean you,” she shouted. “Wait up, I’m gonna hang out at your base.”

He gave her a thumbs up from the path, and Cleo jogged down to meet him. It had been a crazy couple of days, but everything was going back to normal so quickly. Maybe, everything would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! I have 2 more fic ideas, and I need ur help to decide what to write next. Would you like:
> 
> \- A highschool au with bad girl! falsesymmetry x stressmonster  
> or  
> \- A modern au with sugar daddy! scar x grain
> 
> (I'm gonna write both I just need to decide which comes first) Please comment below!


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